


I'll Take the Rain

by matan4il



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: London, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-22
Updated: 2004-12-22
Packaged: 2018-04-07 23:31:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4282146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matan4il/pseuds/matan4il
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most romantic place in London…?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Take the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> **Pairing:** Bush/Blair. Not. Try my beloved Viggorli instead.  
>  **Disclaimer:** This couldn't possibly have happened without any non-slash casualties. So it probably didn't. Or is the government lying to us again?  
>  **Warnings:** Despite the title, this is not a song fic.  
>  **Genre:** PWP. The W is questionable. Meaning, this story is as close to PWP as I get.  
>  **Thanks:** To my lovely and brave beta, Soar38 who made this fic so much better. To my doll Whitewizzy who made the stunning banner and to Londinensa who provided me with the inspiring base picture.

  
  


"You can't be serious!"

"But I am."

"You are? You call _this_ romantic?"

"Well…" Orlando grinned shamelessly, "I might not have meant exactly romantic." He walked over to the front of the topless second storey of the hop-on, hop-off London sightseeing tour bus, holding on to his umbrella.

"I guess you can always blame your parents. Or this damn British weather," Viggo muttered unhappily, as he followed his lover.

"Parents are a cliché and the British weather has been already used to explain why there are no gays in Britain. We'll have to come up with something else." Orlando replied, grasping the ledge with one hand and reaching back to pull Viggo close to him with the other.

"Speaking of things that I'll later have to excuse, there's the two of us under one umbrella, the local folks aren't bothering to look around them in this crappy rain, the tourists are all hiding for their lives downstairs, where there are walls and a roof to keep them warm, dry and safe. Can't you see the potential, Herr Doctor Freud?" He continued in a voice which didn't even try to sound naïve, while unbuttoning Viggo's rain coat.

Fabric made contact with fabric.

Orlando flushed his body as close as possible to his lover. In the cold air, Viggo both felt and saw Orli's breath trailing its excited path towards him, changing shape swiftly but never lost, as though it was made up of Orlando's raw desire.

They stood there so, two long and dark rain coats making love on top of the public bus, before Orli handed over his umbrella to Viggo and took off his only protection from the rain. Before the worried anxiety that sprang to life in the American's eyes had a chance to be transformed into action, the Brit had already turned around and hidden himself deep within the folds of his lover's coat, quickly buttoning it up. Feeling them joint in the tight space formed by cloth. Back to front. Grinding slightly against each other as the bus made its way from one must-see site to the next. And Viggo's right hand was wrapped around Orli's waist, pulling him closer yet.

Brown curly hair was spilt all over a shoulder as a head had been tilted backwards, its eyes mostly closed and the voice coming out of its throat a low, rich-toned whisper that carried many promises.

"Can you be my excuse?"

But excuses required reason and that was no longer a state of mind Viggo could relate to. The pressure of Orlando's body so great within the compounds of the coat, its heat so overwhelming, marking Vig's skin as surely as the experience would mark his mind. The memory of other, sunnier countries across an ocean was all but gone.

Orlando's head was still leaning on Viggo's shoulder, its cheeks colored by thrill and lips turning a darker shade of red as blood ran closer to the thin surface, and Vig knew exactly how lucky he was, to be seduced by a man of supreme beauty, external almost as much as internal.

With that, the fate of that afternoon was decided and Viggo's last shreds of rationality evaporated. As he felt his way to the obstacle that was the zipper, the enticing angel smiled, as anyone would when realizing that Heaven and Earth have just been moved at their command. Orlando's pants and underwear were unceremoniously parted from his body and they fell a long way down to the floor, to the bottom of the lovers' world.

"I can't be." Viggo replied, sending the echo of his voice to reverberate through the tiny goose bumps on his lover's neck. "You, my lovely, are more corrupt than I could ever make you."

"True. You may show your appreciation now." Orlando's speech was abruptly cut and he gasped in surprise for air as Viggo expertly tucked at the object of his appreciation.

For a few moments, the sound of Orli's gasps and moans blended in and out of sync with that of the drops of rain, falling on the freezing metal on which they were leaning their weight.

Hard and urgent, Orlando felt a familiar demand behind him through the cloth still engulfing Viggo and he was happy to oblige. Clinging his body back to Vig's, he reached behind him, half turning around, and guided by vivid physical memories, he found a submissive zipper.

Just when he was about to reach inside, a hand stopped his, pinned it to the side of his body, dragged it across his pelvis to underneath his shirt, up his abdomen to the chest and…

Air! With one motion, Viggo was in him, deeper than ever before, much like the air that rushed invasively so far down his lungs that it stung. For a second, he ached all over, his every cell screaming how empty and lifeless any other state of being was.

Viggo's one hand was now alternately pinching, massaging and applying pressure to one of his nipples, the other secured the umbrella between them. Then, Orli felt that hand at the corner of his mouth, the thumb sticking out. He lapped at it eagerly, pushing back to signal his readiness for more, knowing Vig would be delighted to respond.

Orlando thrived on Viggo's love making style. One thrust at a time, each made meaningful by sheer power of intent and through slightly varying angles, each accessorized by irrepressible groans. All of which he answered by wanton noises of all shapes and colors.

He would never be able to reconstruct when exactly did Viggo's thumb slip out of his mouth and he bit his lower lip instead, nor when did the distance between him and the frontal bus ledge nearly disappear, leaving the former space occupied by their hands combined. He wasn't even capable of telling when the umbrella fell off to the side and left them exposed to the wrath of nature, delightfully imperfect.

Viggo's purposefulness could make him, at times, last for hours, forgetting himself in favor of constantly driving into Orlando, rapidly and forcefully, unable to stop.

This could have been one of those times, had it all not been too much for Orli. Crushed between the metallic ledge and Viggo's rhythmic passion, between cold air and scalding flesh, rain drops falling down his face and sweaty, hot dampness surrounding his every other particle, Orlando was practically vibrating, a small sound of near exhaustion coming out of him.

Viggo grabbed Orli's erection and whispering "I love you" into his ear, made him come violently with nothing more than a few strokes and followed him almost immediately, as an orgasming Orlando clenched down on him and extorted a desperate little shriek of pleasure from him.

Standing still together, Viggo let himself feel the fragility of the body he was embracing in his arms. A protective need washed over him at once and drowned just as instantly in the knowledge of harsh realities and human helplessness. He closed his eyes, moved Orli's shirt a little and lingeringly kissed the barely exposed shoulder. He was simply being there. Concentrated. Like the smell of Orlando's wet curls.

A scent which changed rain forever.

Slowly, it was Orlando who disentangled them gently but assuredly, each of his motions long and decisive, turning around and pulling Viggo's clothes back up from his thighs and using Vig's aid to restore his own. Some people were stronger than they seemed to the casual observer.

One might claim that divine revelation followed, to Viggo's ears, when Orli asked his lover what he wanted to do next as a tourist in London, though the words and content themselves were plain. But one might have noticed a smile of pure bliss and understanding.

As if cued by Orli's actions to speak, Viggo asked "Didn't we just spoil the rest of the London experience for me?"

"Not in the least. Your mind will be boggled by the number of romantic, shall we say, sites."

"So…"

"So?" Orli raised a questioning eye.

"Of all those places you brought me here."

"It was the first thing I did when I got, at 16, to the capital. Was raining then too. I was looking around, thinking. And you know that I've always," Orli's eyes sparkled at Viggo's with a mischievous tone making his intention clear, "always been depraved."

"Don't I know it."

They just smiled at each other for a few moments, revelation perhaps shared, as the rain kept falling softly. Neither one thanked the other for either trust or its justification. But then, they didn't need to.

As they strolled to the staircase leading down to the ordinary bus ride of driver, tickets and tourists, Viggo suddenly remarked, "It is a pity, though."

"What is?"

"That no one told Oscar Wilde about the British climate."


End file.
